Free Web NovelChapter 44: Of Curious Scents and Unspoken Questions
Chapter 43: Of Curious Scents and Unspoken Questions
Lyria froze.
For one dreadful moment, the realization struck her with such sudden force that she nearly choked on the last crumb still dissolving on her tongue.
The linen in her hands was empty.
Completely empty.
Her fingers tightened slowly around the soft square of cloth as the full horror of the situation dawned upon her.
She had eaten everything.
Not one snack remained. Not one crumb. Not even the smallest smear of jam clung to the linen.
And she had done so while standing directly before a duke and an earl.
Lyria’s eyes widened in quiet alarm.
For a single breath she stood perfectly still, as though perhaps if she did not move, the reality of what had just occurred might somehow undo itself.
It did not.
A low chuckle broke the silence.
The sound came from the Duke. She was getting accustomed to the sound that she could identify it without being told explicitly who it came from.
Lyria’s head lifted instinctively.
The duke stood where he had been moments earlier, tall and relaxed, his gloved hands resting loosely behind his back. His expression held unmistakable amusement.
"Do not look so alarmed," he said lightly.
Lyria’s face immediately flushed crimson.
"I—I beg your pardon, Your Grace," she said quickly, dipping into a deep bow.
The duke’s eyes gleamed faintly.
"For all your earlier insistence," he continued, "it was rather obvious that you were hungry."
Lord Hawthorne gave a small nod of agreement.
"Indeed," he said thoughtfully. "Your stomach’s... condition appears to have been rather serious."
The duke gave another quiet chuckle.
Lyria wished, quite sincerely, that the earth might open beneath her feet.
"M-my apologies, Y-your Grace. My lord," she said quickly, bowing again. "I d-did not mean to... to eat so... so freely in your p-presence."
Her voice had grown softer with embarrassment.
"I-It was most improper of m-me."
She straightened only slightly before bowing once more.
"But I thank you b-both for y-your k-kindness," she added sincerely. "Y-your hospitality was... most g-generous."
Neither man interrupted her.
Lyria did not dare look directly at them.
The linen trembled faintly in her hands before she hastily folded it again and held it out.
"M-my thanks," she repeated quietly.
Lord Hawthorne waved the gesture away at once.
"You may keep the linen," he said mildly.
Lyria blinked.
"Oh. N-no, my lord, I could not possibly—"
"Please," the earl said simply.
Lyria hesitated, then she bowed once more.
"Then... t-t-thank you, my lord."
There was a brief silence after that.
Lyria felt suddenly, acutely aware of their continued attention.
And with that awareness came the powerful urge to leave as quickly as possible before anything else unfortunate happened.
Without another word, she bowed deeply once more.
"I m-must return to my d-duties," she said hurriedly.
And then she turned and hurried past them.
She moved with such speed that it could only be described as a dignified escape.
Within seconds she had vanished through the stable doors.
Neither man moved as silence descended between them.
Then the duke chuckled again.
His gaze lingered on the stable where Lyria had disappeared.
"She fled rather quickly," he observed.
Lord Hawthorne exhaled a slow breath beside him.
"Yes."
There was a beat of silence before the earl spoke again.
"We should have asked for her name," he said regretfully.
The duke glanced sideways at him.
"Oh?"
Lord Hawthorne folded his arms thoughtfully.
"There was something..." he paused slightly, searching for the proper word, "...pleasant about her."
The duke raised one brow.
"Pleasant?"
"Yes."
Hawthorne looked toward the stables again.
"There was something welcoming about her presence." His brow furrowed faintly. "And that scent."
The duke made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, making Lord Hawthorne turn toward him.
"I truly believed she was wearing perfume," he said, puzzled. "The scent was so lovely I was certain it had to be as a result of perfume."
The duke said nothing as the earl continued.
"It was warm," the earl said thoughtfully. "Inviting too."
He looked toward the duke again.
"Truly, you did not perceive anything like what I have just described?" he asked.
The duke tilted his head slightly, a faint smile on his face.
"I did," he said softly.
Lord Hawthorne stared at him in disbelief.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Then why," the earl demanded slowly, "did you pretend you could smell nothing but horses and hay?"
"Because," the duke said calmly, "she was clearly uncomfortable."
"Really?" the earl asked him.
He had to admit he had not noticed any sign of discomfort from the servant when they had been speaking with her, especially when he spoke about her scent.
"Yes, Hawthorne," Lord Thorncrest told him. "For someone who grew up with six sisters, you always miss things like this."
Hawthorne blushed deeply at that.
"I was rather taken by the scent that I failed to notice."
"You need not apologize to me but to the servant," Hawthorne told him. "But I will admit, I was rather taken by her scent too."
The duke’s tone was quieter now.
"It was welcoming... very much so."
The earl nodded slowly.
"Yes."
For a moment neither man spoke.
Then Hawthorne cleared his throat lightly.
"Well." He adjusted the cuffs of his gloves.
"Shall we still go riding?"
The duke nodded once.
"Certainly."
But then he added,
"Though perhaps not with horses. I would rather not spook a certain servant who has successfully run away from us," Thorncrest said.
Hawthorne frowned.
"Then how do we go riding?" he asked the duke.
The duke had already begun walking away across the courtyard.
The earl hurried slightly to keep pace beside him.
"Your Grace?"
The duke did not answer immediately.
Hawthorne frowned deeper.
"Surely you do not mean—"
The duke rolled his eyes.
"Must I truly explain it?"
Hawthorne’s eyes suddenly widened.
"You mean—"
"Yes."
The duke did not even glance at him.
"We shall go riding in wolf form," he told Hawthorne.
The earl’s entire demeanor changed at once. His earlier composure vanished almost instantly, replaced with something far more boyish and excited.
"I would very much enjoy stretching my limbs," Hawthorne said eagerly.
"Wouldn’t we all?" the duke asked him.
